


heartbeat (it beats in time)

by moonlace



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: F/M, Punk!Percy - Freeform, but um, eueueu, this took me like three months to write sobs, yeah??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-29
Updated: 2013-10-29
Packaged: 2017-12-30 19:39:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1022618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlace/pseuds/moonlace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's something about Percy that digs deep into her heart and won't let go. But it's Percy, and although he gives off the tall, dark, and handsome aura Annabeth knows it's all a ruse.</p>
<p>(Fluff, fluff, and Punk!Percy.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	heartbeat (it beats in time)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [maydayparade8123](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maydayparade8123/gifts).



> In which Kaitlyn loves the Punk!Percy AU and contributes to the cause, albeit a little late. Oops. Gifted to May because her Punk!Percy fics make my heart palpitate with feelings.

“We’re going to be late if you don’t hurry up, Percy!” Annabeth shouts, crossing her arms and tapping her foot impatiently. She’s standing in the Jacksons’ living room, staring up the stairs, as if just the power of her gaze would warp time itself and make her boyfriend hurry up.

“Chill, Annabeth, we’ve got at least half an hour,” An annoyed voice shouts back. “I’ll be right there.”

Annabeth just rolls her eyes, knowing exactly how much Percy was exaggerating. “Actually, we’ve got ten minutes, and that’s about how much time it takes to get to the restaurant.”

“I don’t see why we even have to go to that restaurant. The dress code is so annoying,” He complains, and steps onto the stairs.  
Annabeth can’t help but snort in laughter as she catches sight of him. His hair is free of its usual gel-laden style, and it flops around his ears in the most adorable way. His white button-up shirt is wrinkled and buttoned incorrectly, his black vest is unbuttoned completely, and flaps when he moves. And his red tie, the one that matches her dress, is clutched in his hands.

“Hey, you try getting this thing on,” Percy frowns, tugging at the collar of his shirt self-consciously. Annabeth thinks he looks unbearably cute, especially as he pouts and his lip ring juts out. Who knew, badass Percy Jackson was really like an adorable seal at heart?

“C’mere you big idiot.” Annabeth says, smiling, beckoning him over with a single finger.

“Who are you calling an idiot?” Percy scowls, but hands her the tie anyways.

Annabeth moves to unbutton his lopsided shirt and Percy smirks. “You know, if you’d wanted to do that I would’ve saved you the trouble and just come down here naked.”

She rolls her eyes at him, swatting his hand away. “You buttoned your shirt wrong, you ass.”

“Now that was just rude,” Percy says, pouting. “And I thought I looked fine as hell.”

“Yeah, whatever helps you sleep at night.” Annabeth finishes buttoning up his shirt, correctly this time, and moves on to fix his vest. “Did you get dressed in the dark or?” She teases, knowing very well that Percy was just being Percy.

His scowl grows deeper and he doesn’t answer, releasing a huff of indignation.

Annabeth grins inwardly, buttoning the last button and finally grabbing the tie, looping it around his neck and beginning to tie the knot.

Percy squirms uncomfortably, reminding her of an over energetic puppy.

It doesn’t help much that his hair, loose and free of gel, frames his face and gets into his eyes, and every time it does, he crosses his eyes and flicks it away.  
With a final yank, Annabeth pats down the tie and steps back. “Come on, we’re already late.”

“Why don’t we just stay home tonight? They won’t give us the reservation anyways,” Percy says, his eyes widening into his signature puppy-dog look.

Oh dear gods, Annabeth thinks. Percy may be a hard, punk-rock asshole on the outside, but inside, he’s just a big kid.

“No, we promised your mom and Paul we’d go,” Annabeth scolds, refusing to give into his pleading eyes.

“But we can order pizza and watch movies here! I’ll even let you pick the movie,” Percy says, pouting. Annabeth shuts her eyes and frowns.

“How generous,” Annabeth deadpans, turning around and grabbing her purse. “Now let’s go.”

Percy gives a sigh of resignation, running his hand through his hair. “You’re no fun.”

“Someone has to be,” Annabeth says, laughing. “Now come on, let’s go. Maybe they’ll still give us a table.”

+++

The restaurant doesn’t give them a table, because they’re over ten minutes late and their table had been given away to someone else.

Percy gives Annabeth a smug look and she begins to wonder if he’d set this all up, hoping to get out of the fancy dinner Sally and Paul had set up for the two of them.

Secretly, Annabeth hadn’t wanted to come, but for the sake of a) getting Percy out of the house, b) getting a nice romantic dinner with her boyfriend, c) seeing Percy in fancy wear, and d) disagreeing with Percy, she had agreed to take the two of them up on the offer.

She rolls her eyes and gives him a small smile. “This was your plan all along, wasn’t it?”

He doesn’t even bat an eye, only smirks and replies, “What are you talking about?”

“Pizza it is,” Annabeth says, heaving a long, exaggerated sigh. “But I’m still holding you up on the promise of letting me choose the movie.”

“I’m a man of my word,” Percy winks and smirks once again, grabbing Annabeth’s hand.

She’s surprised at his gesture, because Percy’s not normally one for public displays of affection, wanting to keep up his quote unquote ‘reputation’ for being a badboy, a punk, a hardass, one might say.

(Annabeth knows better though, the boy really is a big dork at heart.)

(Percy denies all charges of being a big softie.)

He pulls her towards the car, and Annabeth slides into the passenger seat.

It’s a mess, the car that Percy drives, but it’s a homely kind of mess. Annabeth can pick out certain things, (a paperclip chain, wedged into the crevice between the passenger seat and the glove compartment, from the time when Annabeth had thrown it there when she saw him playing with it while driving; an old Wal-Mart receipt, drawn and scribbled on, from when Percy, on a whim, decided to buy ten boxes of hair dye; a crumpled up ball of aluminum foil, from when Annabeth, running late, had eaten her Poptarts in the car and Percy had stolen them) that make her smile.

The radio turns on full blast, and Annabeth winces just slightly. Percy doesn’t even blink, just rolls down his windows and starts singing- off key- to a song that Annabeth swears is only drums and electric guitar.

She glances over at the idiot she calls her boyfriend, smiling softly. His jet black hair flies in the wind, his green eyes glint as he stares ahead. He taps his fingers on the wheel, biting on his lip- Annabeth gets butterflies as she watches him tug on his lip ring- when there’s a pause in the song.

She watches as his lips slowly gather up in a smirk. “You’re staring,” He states flatly, glancing over.

Annabeth can feel herself turning red. “No, I’m not.” She mutters, looking anywhere but Percy.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” He mocks, eyes glinting.

She shoves him a little, and he only grunts. “Excuse me, respect the driver.”

“Only if the driver isn’t an asshole,” She returns.

“Asshole is my middle name.” His smirk grows wider, which Annabeth hadn’t thought possible.

She snorts, “One thing you do get right.”

“Babe, I take offense to that,” Percy says, pulling into the Jacksons’ driveway.

It’s Annabeth’s turn to smirk as she unclips her seatbelt. “That was entirely the point.” She hops out of the car without waiting for an answer, the wind blowing her blonde hair into her face.

She can tell that Percy follows her, as the engine cuts and the driver’s door slams shut.

“I’m going to shower and get out of this thing,” Annabeth tells him, pulling at her red strapless dress uncomfortably.

Percy looks her up and down exaggeratedly. “Or you could stay in the dress, you look gorgeous.” His eyes soften with his last statement.

Annabeth appreciates the sentiment, but she really, really does not enjoy the feeling of her strapless bra sliding down her body.

Percy sighs. “I’ll order the pizza.”

Annabeth just gives him a fleeting smile before ascending the stairs and opening up Percy’s bedroom door.

Mirroring his car, Percy’s room is a mess, clothes haphazardly thrown around the room and crumpled up paper balls overflowing out of the trash can.

Annabeth grimaces at his room, however, and moves to pick up some dirty boxers (Percy will never admit it but they’re Finding Nemo, with little Marlins and Dorys swimming around on the white cotton material) and throw it into the hamper. She opens up his dresser drawer and pulls out a clean pair of sweatpants (there’s a lot of things Percy, the so called punk, won’t admit to, and owning sweatpants is another one of them) and a T-shirt (there’s nothing more comforting to her than being enveloped in something that’s distinctly _Percy_ ).

She quietly pads out of Percy’s room and into the adjoining bathroom, closing the door behind her. The lights flicker on and she sets the clothes on the counter, moving to turn on the water.

It takes her a half hour to finish showering, although half of the time had been spent staring at the foggy window high above the shower and relaxing as the hot water healed her skin and muscles. Damp blonde hair falling into her eyes, Annabeth turns off the shower, shivering as she wildly grabs for a towel.  
Her hands clasp around fluffy white material and she pulls it into the quickly chilling shower. Wrapping herself into the warm blanket, she dries herself off, finally pulling all of her wet blonde hair on the top of her head and securing it there with a hair elastic.

As she pulls on Percy’s clothes, she inhales deeply and smiles, the smell of salt and sand and sea and Percy is something so distinct and comforting that she wouldn’t mind smelling it all day.

Annabeth flicks off the light and pads down the stairs, where the aroma of warm pizza can already be detected. A faint smile plays on her lips as she approaches the Jacksons’ modest kitchen. Annabeth can hear the faint strains of music and she arches a single eyebrow. Was that violin? Annabeth didn’t know that Percy listened to violin music, much less knew what a violin even was.

Her fingers brush against the wooden door leading to the kitchen and Annabeth gives the door a light push, waiting for it to creak open.

When it does, she freezes. Because the kitchen had been transformed in the thirty minutes she’d been in the shower.

The lights are dimmed, a soft glow emanating from a single light and a few candles lit on the round wooden table. A wine-colored tablecloth is draped over the table, set for two, complete with napkins, wine glasses, and cutlery. On each plate sits a single piece of pepperoni pizza.

Annabeth pivots around as familiar arms engulf her in a long, long hug.

“Softie,” she mumbles, smiling into the crook of Percy’s elbow. “How romantic.”

She can feel the heat from Percy’s blush from where she’s standing, and she hides a smirk. Another facet of the enigma of ineffable Percy Jackson. Doofus, idiot, badass, romantic.

Fitting, she supposed, the corners of her lips turning up into a quick grin. Annabeth breaks free of Percy’s hug and turns to face him. “So sweet of you,” she grins, sincerely this time. “Thank you.”  
  
Percy’s only answer is to lean down and peck her lips before straightening up and smirking at her. “Shall we, then?”


End file.
